A Ceo In Her Stocking. Elizabeth Bevarly

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СКАЧАТЬ if he didn’t feel like one now, watching Clara and her son play on the floor with his mother. It was the way a child felt when he was picked last in gym or ate alone at lunch. Which was nuts, because he’d excelled at sports, and he’d had plenty of friends in school. The fact that they were sports he hadn’t really cared about excelling at—but that looked good on a college application—and the fact that he’d never felt all that close to his friends was beside the point.

      So why did he suddenly feel so dejected? And so rejected by Clara? Hell, she’d invited him to join them. And how could she be rejecting him when he hadn’t even asked her for anything?

      Oh, for God’s sake. This really was nuts. He should be working. He should have been working the entire time he was standing here revisiting a past it was pointless to revisit. He’d become the CEO of Dunbarton Industries the minute the ink on his MBA dried and hadn’t stopped for so much as a coffee break since. Staying home today to meet Clara and Hank with his mother was the first nonholiday weekday he’d spent away from the office in years.

      He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t even noon. He’d lost less than half a day. He could still go in to the office and get way more done than he would trying to work here. He’d only stayed home in case Clara turned out to be less, ah, stable than her résumé let on and created a problem. But the woman was a perfectly acceptable candidate for mothering a Dunbarton. Well, as an individual, she was. Her family background, on the other hand...

      Grant wasn’t a snob. At least, he didn’t think he was. But when he’d discovered Clara was born in a county jail, and that her parents were currently doing time for other crimes they’d committed... Well, suffice it to say felony convictions weren’t exactly pluses on the social register. Nor were they the kind of thing he wanted associated with the Dunbarton name. Not that Hank went by Dunbarton. Well, not yet, anyway. Grant was sure his mother would get around to broaching the topic of changing his last name to theirs eventually. And he was sure Clara would capitulate. What mother wouldn’t want her child to bear one of the most respected names in the country?

      Having met Clara, however, he was surprised to have another reaction about her family history. He didn’t want that sort of thing attached to her name, either. She seemed like too decent a person to have come from that kind of environment. She really had done well for herself, considering her origins. In fact, a lot of people who’d had better breeding and greater fortune than she hadn’t gone nearly as far.

      He lingered at the bedroom door a minute more, watching the scene before him. No, not watching the scene, he realized. Watching Clara. She was laughing at something his mother had said, while keeping a close eye on Hank who, without warning, suddenly bent and brushed a kiss on his mother’s cheek—for absolutely no reason Grant could see. He was stunned by the gesture, but Clara only laughed some more, indicating that this was something her son did often. Then, when in spite of their best efforts, the structure he’d been building toppled to the floor, she wrapped her arms around him, pulled him into her lap and kissed him loudly on the side of his neck. He giggled ferociously, but reached behind himself to hug her close. Then he scrambled out of her clutches and hurried across the room to try his hand at something else.

      The entire affectionate exchange lasted maybe ten seconds and was in no way extraordinary. Except that it was extraordinary, because Grant had never shared that kind of affection with his own mother, even before his father’s death changed all of them. He’d never shared that kind of affection with anyone. Affection that was so spontaneous, so uninhibited, so lacking in contrivance and conceit. So...so natural. As if it were as vital to them both as breathing.

      That, finally, made him walk down the hall to his office. Work. That was what he needed. Something that was as vital to him as breathing. Though maybe he wouldn’t go in to the offices of Dunbarton Industries today. Maybe he should stay closer to home. Just in case... Just in case Clara really wasn’t all that stable. Just in case she did create a problem. Well, one bigger than the one she’d already created just by being so spontaneous, so uninhibited, so lacking in contrivance and conceit, and so natural. He should still stay home today. Just in case.

      You never knew when something extraordinary might happen.

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